


open for me

by violaceum_vitellina_viridis



Series: yule gift fics [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Eskel (The Witcher), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Axii (The Witcher), Axii Triggers, Biting, Breathplay, Brief Allusions to Underage, Consensual Kink, Consensual Mind Control, Copious Amounts of Slick, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Improper Use of Axii (The Witcher), Intersex, Intersex Alpha/Beta/Omega, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentioned Lambert (The Witcher), Misuse of Potions, Omega Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Oral Knotting, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Witcher Potions (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violaceum_vitellina_viridis/pseuds/violaceum_vitellina_viridis
Summary: “You’re in pre-heat,” he says, matter of fact, and puts down his book.Geralt’s fidgeting gets worse. “Yeah.”
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: yule gift fics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038730
Comments: 39
Kudos: 210





	open for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [concertconfetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/concertconfetti/gifts).



> whoo! this got written in not very many hours and has not been edited at all and also i'm _super_ tired right now so we're just rolling with it
> 
> for gideon, who i actually had a whole different yule fic planned out for and then....well, this happened instead. so. here we are. i love you so much, gids, hope you like filth. :D
> 
> the a/b/o bodies here are based off of reapersun's art, which if you haven't seen it, holy shit. _holy shit,_ it's so good. intersex a/b/o!!!

The potion bottle Geralt slams down onto the table is made of thick, misshapen glass. It’s the kind they buy off of glassmakers for cheap, because no one except the strangest collectors want it and they need endless supplies of little fucking bottles.

He can’t tell what potion is in it. The glass is so thick it obscures the color, and there’s no specialized seal or colored wax to identify it. However, has to have been made recently, judging by the faint smell of crushed herbs wafting from Geralt’s fidgeting fingers.

But that’s not the only smell wafting off of Geralt right now.

“You’re in pre-heat,” he says, matter of fact, and puts down his book.

Geralt’s fidgeting gets worse. “Yeah.”

“What’s this, then?” He picks up the bottle to hold it to the light, inspecting the way the liquid distorts light. It’s an amber color, which narrows the list of likely potions down a little, but it’s darker than Eskel has ever seen. It’s almost definitely a new one, then. “Actually, how much do you owe Lambert for this?”

“Nothing,” Geralt says, voice rough and quiet. “ _I_ made it.”

“Oh?” Eskel turns back to him and sets the bottle back down. “I mean, you’re no slouch at alchemy, Geralt, but….”

Geralt’s fidgeting gets worse, and the pre-heat smell sharpens, _deepens._ Eskel doesn’t bother hiding the way his nostrils flare as he breathes it in, and he grins when Geralt’s pupils dilate.

“I’ve been working on it,” Geralt says, almost defensively. “All year.”

“Hmm. So, what is it?”

“Killer Whale,” Geralt murmurs. “But…stronger.”

“More toxic.”

Geralt shakes his head. “No,” he says, and grabs the bottle with fingers that are only trembling slightly. “Just stronger. Took a while to figure it out, but….” He shakes the potion a little, and even with it still tightly corked, Eskel can hear the hiss of it.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Stronger Killer Whale,” he says, thoughtfully. “What do you want to do with it, hm?”

It’s not hard to guess. But making Geralt say it is at least half of the fun, when he’s like this, squirming around on the edge of desperation.

“The doses last longer,” Geralt says. His fist tightens on the bottle a little.

“How long is _longer?_ ”

“Sixty seconds longer than your knot does.”

The implication of that – the realization of _exactly_ what Geralt wants – hits like a punch to the gut. Eskel’s knot throbs as if it knows what’s coming, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s out of his chair and in Geralt’s space. As if pulled by an invisible string, Geralt tips his head back, baring his throat for Eskel to bury his face in.

He tucks his nose right against Geralt’s scent gland, feeling the way it’s just _slightly_ than the surrounding skin, and inhales, deep and greedy. Geralt smells like everything Eskel wants in his life on most days, but like this – like this, it’s like a _drug._ It’s a wonder Geralt doesn’t have a mile-long line of alphas begging to knot him.

No, not a miracle. A _choice._ Geralt has never rolled over for any alpha except Eskel.

The thrill of that never, _ever_ gets old.

He wraps possessive hands around Geralt’s waist, feels the plush softness of his winter weight, the curves of his body more pronounced when he’s well-fed and not violently suppressing his nature. Eskel’s just as greedy for the feel of that as he is the smell of him, pulling him closer, holding him tighter.

Geralt just trembles and sighs, melting into the contact as his scent spikes again.

“Don’t have long,” Eskel murmurs, trailing open-mouthed kisses over Geralt’s throat. “Won’t be able to facefuck you once you hit heat, sweet thing. You’ll be too greedy for my cock in other places.”

“Yeah,” Geralt says, breathy. “Want – fuck, want Axii, too, please?”

Eskel chokes around a vicious growl, hands squeezing bruise-tight around Geralt’s waist as he bares his teeth. Geralt just pushes closer, whining low, almost too low to hear, but Eskel can _feel_ the way it rumbles through his chest, can smell the bright lust edging in to the scent of pre-heat

“Come on, then,” he says, shifting to wrap one arm around Geralt’s waist and tug him along.

* * *

By the time they make it to Geralt’s room, already prepared for a heat with jugs of water and baskets of easy food, he’s starting to fidget again. Eskel turns, after he’s done a quick inspection of the nest on the bed – probably not enough of Lambert’s shirts, but that can be fixed later – and captures Geralt’s hands in his.

“Relax,” he murmurs.

Geralt makes a soft, wanting sound, and when their eyes meet his are wide and hazy. He’s not in heat, not yet, but Eskel knows he doesn’t need heat to get needy like this – heat just sends him down quicker, that’s all. He carefully pries the potion bottle from Geralt’s palm.

“Strip,” he says, and Geralt jumps to obey, already so obedient even _without_ Axii.

The obedience isn’t really why they like using it, though.

While Geralt scrambles out of his clothes, Eskel walks over and stokes the fire in the hearth. Eventually, they won’t need it – heat is called such for a reason – but the shivers will set in first, and he hates to see Geralt curled in on himself with them. The potion he sets on a little table to the side of the plush armchair guarding the hearth. They’ll use the nest later.

Fire taken care of, Eskel strips out of his own clothes and settles easily into the armchair. Geralt appears before him, naked as the day he was born, thighs already shiny with slick and cock curling up against his belly, the folds of his cunt just barely visible as they start to redden and swell. He stands at Eskel’s knees for a long moment, arms behind his back even as his breath stutters and he shifts his weight, and Eskel grins.

“Good omega,” he purrs. Tracing Axii in the air is practically second nature. “On your knees, slowly. Just like that, sweet thing, look at you.”

Geralt carefully lowers himself to his knees, arms still behind his back. Eskel spreads his legs slightly, making just enough room for Geralt’s shoulders between knees, and beckons him closer.

It doesn’t even take a verbal command. Geralt moves, pulled by the strength of Eskel’s magic and his own desire, until he’s as close as he can get, head bent to mouth at Eskel’s belly.

Eskel slides one hand into his hair and grips, pulling his head up just enough to meet his eyes. “Good boy,” he says. “Perfect little omega, on your knees for me.”

Geralt shudders, eyes rolling, and Eskel can smell the gush of slick that spreads down his thighs. He can just feel the shape of Geralt’s mind under his power, the way that the omega gives in to it, eyes going glassy as he floats.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck my throat,” Geralt says, immediately. “Knot my mouth as many times as you can before my heat hits. Want to be so full of you it aches.”

Eskel growls, grip tightening in Geralt’s hair. He pulls his head back until his throat is arched and straining, the scent glands obvious now with how pink they’ve turned against Geralt’s unnaturally pale skin. He reaches out and thumbs over one of them, along the curve of a scar, the mark of his own teeth sunk into Geralt’s throat every winter since they were barely more than pups themselves.

Mating bonds don’t work the same way on Witchers that they do humans, or even elves. But they’re mated, all the same, no matter what anyone might say of it; this, Geralt’s submission and desire even before his heat, is proof enough for Eskel. He pulls Geralt’s head back and ducks down to kiss him, full of teeth, before he sits back up and keeps pulling Geralt forward, forcing his mouth against the curve of Eskel’s cock, then along it to the head.

Geralt makes a soft, needy little noise, and immediately tries to swallow it down. Eskel tuts.

“No,” he says, and Geralt freezes, trembling. Half the Axii and half the fact that he’s an omega teetering on the edge of heat, Eskel has him in the palm of his hand right now, and the rush is incredible. “Slowly, omega. I want to feel you.”

He gets a whine for it, a little furrow appearing between Geralt’s eyes, but he does as he’s told, gently sucking the head of Eskel’s cock into his mouth and bobbing his head gently. Eskel sighs, pleased, and slumps back against the chair to watch for a moment, hand still secure in Geralt’s hair.

Slowly but surely, Geralt works his way down Eskel’s cock, throat spasming as he fights the urge to gag, swallowing instead. Each sucking pull of the tight muscle makes Eskel grunt, fingers clenching in Geralt’s hair; the pull just makes Geralt’s eyes roll back, a muffled, choked moan leaking out around Eskel’s cock.

“All the way, omega,” Eskel orders, and Geralt whines, garbled, but doesn’t try to pull back. He doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight, his mind soft and malleable in the grasp of Eskel’s magic. “Yeah, just like that. _Hm,_ feel good to have me stretching your throat open again, sweet thing?”

Geralt’s lashes flutter and he tries to make a noise, something that’s just more of a vibration against the head of Eskel’s cock, and they both jerk. Eskel tugs at Geralt’s hair, pulling him just as slowly as he’d gone down, until his cock slips out of his mouth with a wet sound. A rush of thick spit follows it, dripping down over Eskel’s cock, his thigh.

“Please,” Geralt rasps, word slurred from the Axii. Eskel retraces the Sign, lets its power sink a little deeper, and Geralt shivers as if there’s a breeze.

“Again,” Eskel says, with a little tug at the hair in his fist. Geralt moans and ducks down to repeat the process, slowly and steadily forcing Eskel’s cock down his throat to the base, and then pulling back just as slowly.

“Again.”

“Again.”

When Geralt pulls up the third time, there are tears streaming down his cheeks, and Eskel doesn’t have to look to know there’s a veritable puddle of slick on the floor between his knees. He brings his free hand up to his spit-slick cock, massaging around his knot, just barely starting to swell. The sensation makes him buck and hiss, and Geralt makes a needy sound in response.

“You want it, hm?” Eskel asks, and normally it would be rhetorical – he can tell how much Geralt wants it, can hear and smell it – but with Axii….

“Yes, yes,” Geralt tries to nod with limited success, whimpering when it pulls at Eskel’s grip on his hair. “Yes, please, want you to knot my mouth, Eskel, _alpha._ ”

Eskel shudders. “Good boy, so good,” he praises. “Touch yourself.”

He intentionally keeps the order vague, wanting to see what Geralt decides on, wanting to see what he wants for himself. One of his hands slides up to cup the slightest swell of a breast – the largest it’ll ever get, since he can’t have pups, but tantalizing all the same, when the Path hasn’t eaten all the fat away – and the other slides down. Eskel expects to see him wrap a fist around his cock, but instead his fingers sink lower, rubbing over his sopping folds.

“Such a pretty little omega,” Eskel rumbles, and taps the leaking head of his cock against Geralt’s bottom lip. His mouth drops open, lashes fluttering as he tries to hold Eskel’s gaze.

He looks fucking debauched, face a mess of tears and spit and precum, the smell of slick sharp and overpowering near everything except the rising smell of heat. For a moment, Eskel just rubs the head of his cock over his lip, his tongue, watching the way he almost chases it, the way he shudders.

“Keep touching yourself,” Eskel orders, and with the head of his cock nestled right inside Geralt’s mouth, he’s able to free his second hand to sink into Geralt’s hair as well. “I’m going to use that pretty throat.”

Geralt whines, tongue twisting around his cock and flicking at the slit, eyes wide and dark with desperation. Eskel chuckles and rubs a thumb over Geralt’s temple before readjusting his grip on his hair, closer to the scalp and a little further back.

The first thrust is slow, but not particularly gentle, and he doesn’t pause for the way Geralt gags and chokes. Knows he doesn’t need to, his awareness of Geralt’s mind enough right now that he’d know before Geralt even managed to take a hand away from himself to signal. After that, though, he speeds up, thrusts shortening as he starts to move Geralt’s head more, until he’s mostly just grinding his cock that bare inch deeper at the end of each push and just using Geralt’s face and throat as a toy.

He’s whining and choking, gagging and making a mess of himself, of the floor, of Eskel, but he smells like a whorehouse, so much lust Eskel can _taste_ it, feels as if he reaches out into the space between them that there’ll be a solid barrier of _want._

“Fuck, _fuck,_ ” Eskel hisses, knot starting to swell. He keeps going, waiting until the last second before he pulls Geralt’s head away from his lap – ignoring the indignant, whining noise Geralt makes – and grabs the potion bottle.

Years of practice make it easy to pop the cork with one hand, and similarly it’s simple to pour one dose into Geralt’s open mouth. He swallows with a little jolt, pupils thinning for a second as the alchemy takes hold. Eskel waits until he can smell it, the sour tinge of hellebore and balisse fruit edging Geralt’s scent.

He retraces Axii, and Geralt’s mouth falls slack as he pulls in a great, heaving breath. Eskel smirks and pets over his throat, once, twice, three times, and Geralt makes a low noise that’s cut off as his throat just relaxes, no tension left in the muscles, not enough to swallow or speak, barely enough to breathe.

It’s an old trigger, one that Eskel thinks he could probably work even without the active hold of Axii, but he’s got better things to be doing than thinking about how much fun it was to implant it. His cock slides back into Geralt’s mouth, down his throat with none of the resistance from before.

Geralt’s eyes are black, the thin ring of gold so dark its blending in with his wide pupils, and Eskel gives a sharp little thrust, his half-swollen knot popping behind Geralt’s teeth. The scrape of them is _incredible,_ painful but in the same way that hot water and a massage on knotted muscles is painful. He pulls back just once, right on the edge, and orders, “Fill your lungs.”

He watches Geralt’s chest rise, watches as his face reddens from the effort of pulling in so much air and not expelling it. He counts to three in his head, waiting until Geralt just starts to tremble, and then he sinks his cock back down. Like this, with everything so relaxed, it’s exactly like sinking into his cunt but tighter, the texture different and a little less slick.

His knot pops behind Geralt’s teeth one more time, making him shudder and growl, and locks. Geralt can’t breathe out, can’t breathe in, either, and doesn’t need to with the Killer Whale. Eskel jolts as his orgasm overtakes him, as he fills Geralt’s belly.

The tongue wiggling against his knot makes him feel like his spine is melting, and when Geralt gathers enough of his wits to start to suck – clumsy and loose, because his mouth is so full, but still _mind-blowing_ – Eskel snarls and jerks his hips in, yanking Geralt’s head close so that his knot presses Geralt’s tongue down, fits into his hard palate.

If Axii weren’t keeping him so wide open, he’d choke and bite; as it is, he just makes some kind of low, obscured sound, and melts into the position.

Eskel growls and jolts and grinds in with each pulse of his orgasm, half of his attention on the pleasure and the other half on Geralt, counting the seconds until his knot deflates.

_Sixty seconds longer than your knot does._

His breathing is ragged by the time his knot begins to deflate. Geralt’s face is red, his scent glands _crimson,_ and he has to fight the urge to keep his cock lodged inside Geralt’s esophagus until he begins to struggle.

Not that he _would,_ with the Axii….

Another day, though. He’s got at least enough time to knot Geralt’s mouth once more before his heat hits properly and they have to move to the nest. He pulls his cock from Geralt’s throat, heedless of the mess that follows – all spit, not a drop of his cum wasted.

“Perfect omega,” he purrs, and Geralt whines, voice gravel-rough. He might actually _lose_ it, all things considered, and the thought sends a bolt of heat to Eskel’s gut. “Want more?”

“Yes, yes, alpha, please,” Geralt pants.

Eskel reaches forward and pets over his scent gland, the edge of his nail scraping along where the swelling begins. Geralt freezes, eyes going wide as he comes, hips convulsing as his cock jerks and spills on his thighs, his belly. There’s an _audible_ gush of slick from his cunt, and Eskel growls approvingly, retracing the scent gland with no regard to how sensitive Geralt might be. He seizes with the second orgasm, entire body shaking wildly as he keens, voice cutting in and out as he jerks.

“Tell me it feels good, omega,” he orders.

Geralt words at first are just garbled nonsense and whimpers, but eventually he manages to get a hold of himself and speak properly. Eskel leaves his fingertip pressed against his scent gland the entire time, half-promise and half-threat. “Feels – feels so good, alpha, _so good._ ”

“Tell me you want more.”

He gets a wide-eyed, panic-edged look, but Geralt’s mouth is opening to spill the words and there’s another distinct rush of slick between his legs. “Want more, alpha, please, please give me more, I want _more,_ please – ”

“Good omega.” Eskel presses down on the scent gland but doesn’t trace it again, instead bending down and shoving his fingers between Geralt’s folds, pressing them inside to the knuckle with no pause. Geralt wails, hands flying up to grip at Eskel’s neck, nails leaving little stinging lines over his shoulders as he scrambles for purchase. Eskel grinds the heel of his palm over the top of his folds, right at the base of his cock, and growls again when Geralt clenches tight around his knuckles. “Pretty little throat, pretty little cunt, pretty little ass – so many nice holes for me to sink my cock. And you let me, you _love_ when I use you.”

“Yes,” Geralt gasps, high and pitchy. “Yes, yes, Eskel, _alpha._ ” His hips rock, riding Eskel’s fingers and grinding the sensitive join of his cock and his cunt against Eskel’s palm. “Alpha, _please._ ”

“Make yourself come, omega,” Eskel orders, retracing Axii with his free hand. Geralt keens and tosses his head back, thighs shifting so he can _properly_ ride Eskel’s fingers, cunt squeezing tight around them despite the fact that Eskel _knows_ they can fit two cocks in it, two _knots._

He crooks his fingers forward and leans a little more forward to mouth at the scent gland nearest to him. He won’t bite yet, he never does unless he’s knotted in Geralt’s cunt and pumping him full, but the temptation is high. He settles for scraping his canines over the throbbing skin and then sucking at the very edge, where the pleasure of the scent gland being touched will blend seamlessly into the pain of the hickey.

Geralt comes apart with a desperate keen, entire body shuddering as he clenches rhythmically around Eskel’s fingers, body trying to milk a knot that isn’t there. Not yet, at least.

“Going to fuck your throat one more time, sweet thing,” Eskel tells him, gently removing his fingers and chuckling at the bereft little noise Geralt makes. “Knot your mouth and fill your belly, and then I’ll knot your needy cunt.”

“Anything, anything, alpha, _please,_ ” Geralt whimpers, eyes brimming with tears.

“Mouth open, hands behind your back,” Eskel orders, and Geralt moves immediately, leaning forward eagerly when Eskel fists his cock. His knot is already starting to swell again, so he doesn’t waste any time, grabbing a hold of Geralt’s hair to pull him forward and down. The throat trigger has faded, at this point, so Geralt gags and chokes, but Eskel just keeps moving him, groaning with each new spasm and twitch. His knot swells up fast, fast enough he almost doesn’t have the time to give Geralt another dose of Killer Whale.

He manages, though, and then he’s shoving his cock back down his throat right on the tail end of the liquid, knot catching behind Geralt’s teeth as soon as he’s deep enough. Geralt spasms, eyes rolling as tears stream down his face, but his hands stay obediently behind his back, and Eskel can see his cock twitching, see the way his cunt is somehow even more red and swollen than before.

“Perfect,” Eskel hisses, pressing Geralt’s head closer as if his knot could get any deeper, lock any tighter. Geralt sucks weakly, cheeks pressing against the swell of it, and chokes again, the convulsion making Eskel groan. “Pretty little omega, _perfect_ fucktoy, _gods._ ”

He didn’t give Geralt a chance to get air this time, and Killer Whale can only do so much; several minutes before Eskel’s knot starts to deflate, Geralt begins to struggle, shoulders curling as he thrashes, eyes wide and mostly whites as his body tries to fight, to expel the cock preventing him from breathing.

Eskel yanks his cock out as soon as he’s physically able, the sharp, almost-bite of Geralt’s teeth around the barely-deflated flesh so searing hot it makes him spurt again, leaving a milky streak over Geralt’s face.

Geralt coughs and pants wildly, eyes wide and bloodshot, but before he can do or say anything, Eskel smells the sudden spike in pheromones.

“Bed, Geralt,” he says, tracing Axii again. “Present.”

Geralt scrambles to his feet and stumbles over to the bed, chest heaving as his knees nearly buckle with each step. He manages to make it to the bed, though, and collapses into the pre-built nest before wriggling up so he can lift his hips. His face remains pressed into the bedding, arms raised over his head, knees spread wide enough that Eskel knows he has no purchase.

It has _no right_ to be so fucking hot, to make Eskel’s cock throb immediately after he got to knot Geralt’s mouth.

“Beg me for it, omega.”

“Alpha, _alpha,_ please – need – so _empty,_ it hurts, alpha, don’t want to hurt, _please_. Need you, need your knot – fuck me full, _please,_ please.”

Eskel shudders and knees his way onto the bed, wrapping his hands around Geralt’s hips to yank him up higher, putting him even more off balance. Geralt just whimpers and goes limp for it, cunt clenching visibly even past the milky mess of his slick that he’s covered in from tailbone to the backs of his knees.

He pries open the folds to peer at the clutching pink of him, and Geralt whines, hips jerking back the little they can. Eskel chuckles and sinks three fingers inside, crooking them down harshly.

“Can you feel that, sweet thing?”

Geralt sobs. “ _Yes._ ”

“Good.” Eskel smirks to himself and pets up Geralt’s side, just to drag his nails back down over his spine, and Geralt shudders hard, sobbing again.

“ _Eskel,_ alpha,” he whines. “That’s – it’s – ”

“You can feel all of it, can’t you?” Eskel says, almost casual. He thrusts his fingers and Geralt makes a high, inhuman noise, cunt clenching down tight, like it really is trying to lock Eskel’s knuckles. “You’re going to feel all of it, Geralt, feel every inch of my cock, of my knot, as I fill you up.”

“ _Alpha._ ”

He takes his fingers away and replaces them with his cock before Geralt can even get the breath to complain. The sensation of bumping into his cervix is jolting for both of them; Geralt hisses, half pain and half pleasure, and Eskel groans, staying that deep to grind against the softness of it.

Geralt whines, high and broken. “Alpha, _alpha,_ please.”

“Please what, omega? Tell me what you want.”

“Want your knot,” Geralt pants. “Want you to fuck me so full I’m round with it, _please._ ”

“I’d have to knot your ass to fill you that full, omega,” Eskel says, starting to rock his hips. “You really so desperate for it you want me to fill _all_ of your holes in one night?”

“ _Please._ ”

Eskel snarls and fucks faster, thrusts lengthening until he’s hammering into Geralt, each new sound cut off by the newest one behind it. With all of the slick around, it’s easy to sink his thumb into Geralt’s asshole and hook it, use it to pull him up.

“Alpha,” Geralt sobs. “ _Alpha._ Feels – you – _hhhk._ ”

“Can you feel all of me, omega? Feel how your tight cunt stretches around my cock, all red and swollen and greedy, feel the way my cock spears you open? Wait till I knot you, sweet thing, and you get to feel me pumping you full.”

Geralt just makes a weak, garbled sound, all naked want, and Eskel fucks harder. His knot is swelling quickly, his self-control entirely overpowered by Geralt, especially Geralt in the throes of heat. The first time he pushes it inside, it makes a slick sound, and pulling it out makes an even louder one. Geralt tries to tighten up, to lock him early, but Eskel doesn’t allow it, switching his thumb out for two fingers in Geralt’s ass.

“Almost there, omega,” he murmurs. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Want it so bad, so _bad,_ ” Geralt cries, “alpha, alpha, _please,_ want you to knot me, _please._ ”

Eskel growls and shoves in one last time, leaning forward over Geralt’s body to sink his teeth into the red beacon of his scent gland. Geralt purrs, cunt clenching around Eskel’s knot to milk him, and when Eskel reaches down, his cock is spilling onto the nest with little twitches.

“Such a needy little omega,” Eskel murmurs, licking across the bloody marks of his teeth. “Going to leave all of your holes gaping before the end of this heat, sweet thing.”

Geralt sighs, soft and sweet and satisfied – for now, at least. “Sounds good, alpha.”

Eskel snorts. “Cheeky little shit.”


End file.
